Miriam Coffin: or The whale-fishermen. A tale ...

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Harper & brothers, 1835 - Whaling
 

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Page 1 - Whilst we follow them among the tumbling mountains of ice, and behold them penetrating into the deepest frozen recesses of Hudson's Bay and Davis's Straits ; whilst we are looking for them beneath the arctic circle, we hear that they have pierced into the opposite region of polar cold, that they are at the antipodes, and engaged under the frozen serpent of the south.
Page 127 - From coral rocks the sea-plants lift Their boughs, where the tides and billows flow : The water is calm and still below, For the winds and waves are absent there, And the sands are bright as the stars that glow In the motionless fields of upper air...
Page 56 - A thousand men, that fishes gnawed upon ; Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl, Inestimable stones, unvalued jewels, All scattered in the bottom of the sea. Some lay in dead men's skulls ; and, in those holes, Where eyes did once inhabit, there were crept (As 'twere in scorn of eyes) reflecting gems, That wooed the slimy bottom of the deep, And mocked the dead bones that lay scattered by.
Page 127 - Deep in the wave is a coral grove, Where the purple mullet and gold-fish rove; Where the sea-flower spreads its leaves of blue, That never are wet with the falling dew, But in bright and changeful beauty shine, Far down in the green and glassy brine.
Page 98 - If I do prove her haggard, Though that her jesses were my dear heart-strings, I'd whistle her off, and let her down the wind, To prey at fortune.
Page 44 - Seals of love, but seal'd in vain. Hide, oh, hide those hills of snow Which thy frozen bosom bears, On whose tops the pinks that grow, Are of those that April wears. But first set my poor heart free, Bound in those icy chains by thee.
Page 189 - Green be the turf above thee, Friend of my better days ; None knew thee but to love thee, None named thee but to praise.
Page 127 - The fan-coral sweeps through the clear deep sea; And the yellow and scarlet tufts of ocean Are bending, like corn on the upland lea. And life, in rare and beautiful forms, Is sporting amid those bowers of stone, And is safe, when the wrathful spirit of storms Has made the top of the wave his own : And when the ship from his fury flies, Where the myriad voices of ocean roar, When the wind-god frowns in the murky skies, And demons are waiting the wreck on the shore; Then, far below, in the peaceful...
Page 74 - Soon to the sport of death the crew repair, Dart the long lance, or spread the baited snare. One in redoubling mazes wheels along, And glides unhappy near the triple prong: Rodmond, unerring, o'er his head suspends The barbed steel, and every turn attends...
Page 127 - Their boughs, where the tides and billows flow : The water is calm and still below, For the winds and waves are absent there, And the sands are bright as the stars that glow In the motionless fields of upper air. There, with its waving blade of green, The sea-flag streams through the silent water, And the crimson leaf of the dulse is seen To blush, like a banner biithed in slaughter.

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